


a dreamer reborn

by Lee_Mix



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 18:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5550815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lee_Mix/pseuds/Lee_Mix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Adrien. I want you to remember something for me.” He tensed as she placed a soft hand to his cheek, and pressed her forehead to his. “Even though you’ve felt so lost… I’m so proud of you for carrying on trying.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	a dreamer reborn

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas. ^_^

 

**( D R E A M**

_It’s a word he knows inside and out. He often dreams, with his feet barely covered by soft cotton, about a world where he and his family journey the world. The foreign lands feel like home under his feet with the warmth of his parents hands guiding him, becoming the gravel that paves the streets with no name._

_“Adrien,” he’s hoisted up by his mother’s arms, embraced by his mother’s smile, and there is a tiny sun in his chest that’s becoming a star. “Hang the star on the tree, my dear.”  
_

_But it never reaches. Everything turns to black._

_It’s a moment’s he’s replaying over and over in his head, constantly trying to fix, to alter, to resolve; but in the end, the dreams always end with that star falling from his grasp, turning to ash before him, and shatter beside his mother’s bloodied corpse._

_He looks up to see his father’s glare and wonders when his mother’s dead embrace became warmer than his father’s living word._

**R E S T A R T** )

 

* * *

 

With a jolt, Adrien’s soul shuddered in his skin as he woke up. He rose so fast in his bed that his bones screamed in agony, and he rubbed the back of his neck as the sweat trickled from his back.

“Adrien. Adrien, are you alright?” Plagg, the one constant in his life, knows the routine. He knows that Adrien will ignore him, trudge out of bed, and bend over the sink until all the bile from the night terrors is released in a messy splurge of tears and sweat.

He won’t let it end like that tonight.

He _can’t._ Not again.

“F…fine.” The breath from his throat lodged in the pipes, whistling out a dying tune. He sharply coughed. “Fine. Fine. I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“Right, because the constant repetitions are supposed to be reassuring to me.” Plagg sighed and put a tiny paw on his hand. “Adrien, you can’t keep carrying on like this.”

“I _know._ ” He clawed through his hair until the scalp began to bleed. “I… I just…”

“You need to get out for a while?”

Adrien peered at Plagg–swallowing down the tears and salt–and nodded without a word. 

 

* * *

 

**( H O P E**

_“Now that she’s gone, you need to act more grown up. You are not a child anymore, and you have the family name to uphold. Any mistake will be penalized by anyone who follows you, including me. I am only doing what is best for you. Do you understand, Adrien?”_

_“I... I’ll do my best.”  
_

_It’s a world that he’s only been in for thirteen years. The dreams have faded to ash, but he can’t help but hope to reach the goals to earn that smile from his father again._

_The sun in his chest died long ago. Now, there’s nothing but a spiked tundra of ice, barely clinging to the Earth’s crust._

**D E S P A I R )**

 

* * *

 

Paris was a placed that breathed in the golden cityscape.

The time of Christmas became a natural season in its own right and the city practically took hold of a new identity as Winter blended with the natural wonders of life. Trees stood fast against streetlamps, and the sounds of cheerful chatter became as much a song as the whistling of winter’s oncoming winds. Christmas had crept upon Paris like a pickpocket but had _given_ new items rather than steal what was already there.

Adrien rolled his eyes at the glow coming from the local tavern, wrapping his scarf around tighter and turning on his heel. Although being Chat Noir had it’s perks, he had decided to stroll around the streets of Paris as himself. Plagg nested comfortably in his collar, even in the chill of Winter’s twilight hours. 

Adrien aimlessly stood in the footsteps of those who had walked around these streets with a purpose.

“It’s real funny, isn’t it, Plagg?” He laughed a little, speaking words to empty air. “I feel more at home on the streets than I do my own family.”

“Can’t be at home on a path, kid.” He flinched when Plagg spoke up. He thought he’d be asleep. “Don’t settle for a trail.”

Adrien grinned, despite himself. “When did you become the bearer of good advice?”

“Since I became starved of life’s essentials. Which, by the way, is cheese.” Plagg was silent until he wasn’t. “You deserve better than what he’s let you suffer, kid. You can’t give up here.”

“Oh? And _where_ should I start, Plagg?”

“Dunno. That’s up to you. You say you feel at home on the streets? Then follow them until you end up there.”

Adrien’s feet lingered in the snow, and he watched as it melted to water. Eventually, it rejoined the snow build up around the edge of his feet until there was barely any trace left of the damage. Only the footprints.

Only one name. One name who had stood up for him, one name that had tried to take him out of the darkness before.

_Nino._

 

* * *

 

**( H E S I T A T I O N**

_“Thanks for trying, Nino. But… it’s okay, you know? My Father isn’t… he does care about me, he’s just a little…”_

_“Messed up, dude. But that’s not your fault. Heck, all you ever **do** is try to please him, and it’s still not enough to make that guy even say, “well done”. I hope you can get through to him one day, man.”  
_

_Something in him knows it’s true._

_But he keeps trying. A little harder, a little faster. He can make his father smile again._

_It can’t have been just his mother’s love that connects them. It has to be more._

_…But then again, like physics, it’s just a theory. One constantly disproven by the evidence._

**A C C E P T A N C E )**

 

* * *

 

He had never actually _been_ to Nino’s apartment before. All he knew was that his mother often worked long hours, that it was a “cozy crib”, and that Nino had gained a knack for repairing electrical equipment in the entire complex due to the poor maintenance of the previous owner. 

But as he stood at the bottom of the complex, hand hovering over the buzzer, it was a place Adrien suddenly wished he was more familiar with. The battery of his phone had died long into the run toward the place. Maybe he should have called first, sent a text ahead of time. But Adrien had never been one for foresight, not when it came to the lack of emotional clarity in his life. 

He swallowed down the hesitation and pressed _12._

Adrien curled his toes, flexed his fingers, _anything_ to try and distract himself from the seconds seeping from his lifespan. 

_“Mm…? Who… who’s there? Not in the mood for pizza again…”_

Adrien’s voice barely managed a word. “N-Nino? Is this a bad time?”

 _“…Adrien? Is that you?”_ Nino’s voice paused, and panic took over both of them.  _“Wait, dude, what the heck are you doing here so late? Ack, hold on, never mind. Come on up. Explain to me without freezing your butt off first.”_

As soon as the lock was off, Adrien moved faster than Chat Noir ever could with adrenaline alone. Stairs became little more than time-bumps in speed. Something had been tugging him along toward Nino when his vision began to blur, and kept him standing when he reached the door of his friend.

The door clicked open, and Nino stood there, wide-eyed. His hair was messy, his glasses barely on, but the shocked expression on his face was unmistakeable. 

“Adrien?”

At his name, his shoulder’s shook, and Adrien crumbled. He was barely caught by Nino’s arms wrapping around him, gently pulling him inside the apartment as his eyes burned with the streams of childhood regret.

 

* * *

 

**(  …**

_Are there any words left that can define the “before” and “after” of your dreams? Of your memories?_

_…Heh. Maybe not._

_But that’s not unusual for you anymore, is it?_

**…  )**

 

* * *

 

To Nino’s credit, he held back the questions longer than Adrien expected him to.

Nino’s apartment wasn’t exactly what he was used to. It was by no means poverty-stricken, but he could tell that they had become creative in creating the overall look. The sofa he sat on was dotted with patchwork cushions, and the blinds had been painted over more than once. But even with that, in the dim light of the empty apartment, it _still_ felt more like home than the luxurious affection-fillers that his father ( _Natalie,_ he remembered) ordered to apologize for the negligence. 

Adrien’s shoulder’s sagged. “Sorry about… barging in like this. I didn’t know where else to go.”

“That doesn’t matter. You know that.” Nino pushed forward the small mug of coffee and leaned back on the sofa. “So, dude. Are you ready to talk now?”

Adrien bit his lip, knuckles turning white around the mug. 

“How long have we been friends, Nino?”

Nino hummed, taking a sip of his own coffee. “Two years, I think.”

“Two years, and I’ve barely even told you anything about…” Adrien’s head bowed. “I can’t let people in that often, Nino. I _can’t,_ I’ve tried and I _can’t._ ”

The soft hand on his shoulder helped, but didn’t heal. “It’s not gonna backfire on me, dude. You can do it.”

His eyes began to sting. “You ever hear about what happened to my Mom?”

Nino’s fingers twitch. “It was all over the news.”

The words began to tumble out until Adrien found himself unable to stop. “I relive it _every night._ Every night, I have to relive… I have to see… my brain never shuts _up_ about what happened to her.” He coughed out a sob. “Remember what they said in science class? How if you leave a wound, it can become infected? If there’s anything I’ve learned about metaphors, is that it… it applies to the head as well. I can’t shut my brain up, Nino, it won’t leave that _moment_ alone. It can’t, it makes it worse, makes it _bloody–”_

Adrien wheezed, and Nino abandoned his coffee in favour of gripping onto his shoulders.

_Ground me. Ground me. I need to come back to reality **PLEASE.**_

“–and I get _nightmares_ about it _,_ Nino. Nightmares. I’m _sixteen years old_ and I get _nightmares_ _._ ”

“Adrien–”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, _damn_ , I–”

“ _Adrien_!”

His head snapped up, tears flinging against the glass of Nino’s spectacles, and all he could do was stare. 

“Adrien, you _need_ to breathe. I-I don’t know much about it, but you sound like you’re going to go into a full frenzy panic attack. Okay, what was it Alya said to me that one time… uh, okay, just listen to my voice, keep focused on me…”

It wasn’t easy, and it took a few moments of laboured wheezes and his mind scrambling to make sense of the world around him, but eventually, Adrien did breathe. 

_Slowly. Count to seven. Breath in. Count to three. Breath out._

_You’re okay. It’s okay._

_We’re okay._

“You okay, dude?”

“Y-Yeah.” Adrien wiped under his eyes. “…Well, not really. But I’m… better.”

Nino breathed a sigh of relief, but his hands hadn’t left Adrien’s shoulders. Instead, one of them moved to cup his cheek. “Alright.” He sounded out of breath. “First of all, Adrien, you do _not_ need to feel bad about not telling me about your Ma. That’s your business, and there’s no need for you to feel guilty. Capiche?”

Adrien felt a smile quirk. “Capiche.”

“And _second,”_ Nino’s expression softened. “Dude, you need… well, I don’t know what you need. But it sounds like you _want_  a distraction from it all.”

 _…A distraction?_ It made sense. The constant self-indulgence of being Chat Noir, exhausting Plagg to fulfill the adrenaline of his tell-tale heart, it would explain everything about wanting to know more about those limits. 

“Am I that predictable? The rich kid who wants to get out?”

Nino shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you’re not suffering, dude. Cliches are there for a reason, you know.” Nino glanced over his shoulder and patted Adrien’s cheek. “Just wait here.”

Adrien’s gaze followed him curiously. “What are you doing?”

Nino had walked over toward the phone, before giving him that familiar crooked grin. Picking up the receiver, he twirled the wire around his fingers. “Giving you a distraction. Letting you see what your Pa won’t let you see. If I’m lucky, Alya and Marinette can join us.” The smile softened up. 

“I’m giving you my present this year: a memory worth holding onto.”

 

* * *

 

**(   .  .  .**

_E v e r y t h i n g ’ s  j u s t  o u t  o f  r e a c h  f o r  y o u ,  i s n ’ t  i t ?_

_S o  w h y  d o  y o u  b o t h e r  t o  k e e p  g o i n g  o n  …  ?_

**.  .  .   )**

 

* * *

 

“Adrien.”

He flinched when he heard his name from her lips. His shoulder’s barely stayed still as he turned his head around to face her.

For there she stood. In the doorway, in the dim light, not half-an-hour after being called, was Alya. 

It was sort of a ridiculous sight, really. She had stuffed the bottoms of her bright-red pyjama trousers into a pair of white boots; her hair was left all askew; her glasses barely holding on to the bridge of her nose. Around the corner (presumably dragged through the city) was Marinette, half-awake and barely able to comprehend anything that was happening.

But there she was. Staring at him like a lost cat in an alleyway.

And then, she wasn’t.

“It’s okay, now.” Without warning, she had flung her arms around him, and his vision became obscured. “It’s okay, Adrien. It’s okay.”

From the security of Alya’s shoulder, he saw Nino put a hand on Marinette’s shoulder and smile at him, and he found himself clinging to the warmth of the image that people _cared_ about him _._

* * *

 

**(    .   .   .**

_I   s  .  .  ._

_I   t  .  .  ._

_T   h   e   m   .  .  .  ?_

_**.   .   .    )** _

 

* * *

Before Adrien knew it, he had been catapulted into a winter wonderland of the twilight cityscape.

“Where are we going first, my friends?” Nino hooked his headphone wires around his fingers, pointing out toward the Seine. “I’m afraid I’m way out of all of your league’s in terms of a date, but I’m giving you dudes the pleasure of my company.”

“Knock it off, Spielberg. I’d sooner fall for Ladybug.” Alya batted his chest with the back of her hand. “Mari? Do you have any ideas?”

He saw the way she cast her eyes full of their blue storm toward him, narrowing sharply as the mental thunder cracked, and Adrien felt himself frowning. Truth be told, Adrien had never been able to fully understand Marinette. He felt for her shyness due to his family…due to the Agreste name he held, but the confidence she had displayed during _everything else_ had left him perplexed. 

She was an interesting enigma, if not one of his best friends.

“I think,” she said, and her words could almost be part of the city air itself. “We should go where the wind takes us.”

Adrien froze at her words, whilst Alya groaned. “I adore you, girl, but you need to be specific! This is no time for being poetic.”

The grin on Marinette’s face suddenly left everyone unnerved.

“Uh, Mari…?” Nino chuckled. “What’s with the–”

“And the wind is telling me…”

“Mari?”

“ _Duck!”_

When the first snowball went hurtling toward them, Chat Noir had all but abandoned Adrien to the fate of the chilled slap in the face.

As the snow dripped from his face, all he saw was Marinette, hand over mouth, stifling her laughter. 

“Oh,” he grinned. “It is _on._ ”

“Battle of the besties!” Alya laughed, pulling the girl to the other side of the pavement. “Hurry up, Mari! M-Make those damn shelters you’re always bragging about!”

“I _can’t_ when there’s _snowballs_ flying my way–ack! _Adrien!_ ” 

“Oho, _dude_! Right in the _face!_ Wait,” Nino paled. “Wait, hold on a second, Aly! I’m not ready, be fair–!” _”_ Nino barely got another word in when Alya aimed, and this only spurred on Adrien to claw into the snow and hurl the balls of frozen water right at their faces.

The four of them fought until the very last fingertip had numbed from the chill, and the shivers had made their laughter incomprehensible. 

* * *

 

**(   .  .  .**

_W h y …_

_?_

**.  .  .   )**

 

* * *

 

“Ooh, Mari, I will _never_ get tired of how well you bake, girl!” 

After the heist of snowballs and carefree frolicking in the snow, the four of them had taken up a spot on a wall overlooking the Seine river. Marinette had brought out four (though slightly cooled) crepes from her parent’s bakery that had been stored in her bag, and Alya had very _loudly_ announced her love of them.

Adrien, however, was a little surprised at the news. “You _made_ these?”

The sight of her flushing and burying her head into her scarf, he would admit, was rather adorable. “Y-Yeah.” She stammered. “My parents run a bakery, so I’ve sort of picked up on how to make a few things over the years.”

_“Bube, uwll fwe wunnin if fwoon!”  
_

Alya groaned, merely backhanding Nino gently around his head. “Nino, you know I adore you, but please don’t talk with your mouth full.”

With a sheepish grin, he swallowed the food. “Sorry, dude. I _said_ that Mari would probably end up running the business soon! These are seriously good.”

_I don’t even remember the last time I had food like this…_

“They’re amazing, Marinette. Some of the best crepes I’ve ever had.” He barely noticed himself squeezing the bottom. “Really.”

“…Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

**( … )**

 

* * *

The conversation dwindled into a gasping ember as the fires igniting the subject matters became lost to the landscape. Adrien’s eyes were torn away from his friends to gaze upon the Winter-blessed Seine, at the glowing tower that put his city on the map, at the entirety of Paris that _he_ helped to keep safe under the guise of his freedom.

_Except its Chat Noir that keeps it safe. Not Adrien._

“Never noticed how rad the city looks at night, dude.”

Adrien leant his head against the wall and looked up. The stars were winking at him again. “Mm.”

“I’m glad it’s still here. With everything, that’s happened lately…” Alya shuddered. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel safe to go outside.”

Nino gawked at her, before gently returning the backhand to her head from earlier. “Dude, you know we have two awesome superheroes to protect it, right? You _blog_ about them!” 

Alya frowned at him, cradling the back of her head with her hand. “Yeah, I know that. I just think, sometimes, they need a bit of help. I mean, looking at their photographs… they can’t be much older than us.”

Adrien froze. “…You think?”

"I _know_ so.” Alya rubbed the back of her neck. “I didn’t really think about it all that much before, but they’ve got to be really stressed. Protecting a city, _homework,_ and keeping their identities secret? And on top of all that, they’re teenagers? People don’t give them enough credit that they would drop everything to save them.” 

His jaw had tightened so much that no words could come out, and he barely noticed Marinette’s own lack of input into the conversation. 

Alya smiled and folded her hands in her lap. “To be honest… I’ll bet they’re heroes even without the mask if that’s the sort of people they are.”

A small, tiny hiccup interrupted Adrien’s shock, and three heads turned to see Marinette.

Tears had streamed down her cheeks, yet she was smiling.

“I…” She took a deep breath. “I think they would be really happy to hear that, Alya.”

“Aww, Marinette…” Alya threw an arm around Marinette’s shoulders. “I didn’t mean to get all mushy on you! I forgot how much you adore those heroes. Come on, let’s go get some hot chocolate and cheer you up.”

“R-Right.” 

It took a few moments before Adrien found his feet, too.

* * *

 

**( …**

_Y o u ‘ r e  n o t  l i s t e n i n g  t o  m e  a n y m o r e ,  a r e  y o u … ?_

**… )**

 

* * *

No. 

Because Adrien didn’t feel warm whenever his father cast him a rare smile, one that should have told him in a single glance that he was his one and only pride; instead, that smile seeped awkward disdain and uncertain boundaries, and it was amazing that he felt more affection from burned photographs than he did the living flesh of his father.

Nor did Adrien didn’t feel warm whenever his father spoke of him in the eyes of the press, that he was honoured to have such a highly-esteemed heir to his company and that he knew in his heart his son was meant for great things; because, really, if it took a camera and a cold screen for him to hear those things in the first place, then everything was edited to perfection, just like his image plastered up on every advertisement his father had enlisted him.

No.

Not anymore.

For Adrien felt that warmth when Nino shoveled a ball of snow into his face, quoted some inane videogame reference, and ran as fast as he could to avoid his payback.

Adrien felt that warmth when Alya lectured him on not taking care of himself when she discovered he had no mittens, and brought out her spair pair, with the insistence that he have them.

And, most of all, Adrien that felt warmth pulsate through his blood (blood that belonged to _him,_ not his family name) when Marinette–sweet, shy Marinette–said nothing at all, only lingered by his side to make sure he didn’t suffer in silence _alone_ and granted him that cute little smile that let him know, “ _I’m thinking of you._ ”

For those were the three souls that had lingered on the edge of the world, and their compasses could have pulled them in any direction. From imperial panoplies of marble and gold; from the world that consisted of only sea and sky; from a place that could have granted them all the riches in the world.

But they found _him,_ on a cold, Parisian Christmas, and decided it was their pleasure to keep him warm.

“Adrien? You’re staring off into space again.”

“Hey, you okay, dude?”

Adrien felt the warmth of Marinette shift beside him, her hand coming up to rest gently on his shoulder. 

“Yeah.” He breathed, not bothering to wipe under his eye. “I just… want to take a picture of the four of us. To remember tonight.”

“Spielberg, if you please?”

Nino groaned. “I _wish_ you’d stop calling me that.”

“Never going to happen. Now, come on!”

Adrien watched the two bicker with a fond smile, only to have his attention diverted at a small tug on the sleeve of his coat. He looked down toward Marinette, and his breath caught in his throat.

She was smiling. Smiling with the warmth of a thousand tiny suns, crystal blue eyes shining… and she was smiling, _smiling for him,_ and only him, and–

And…

It was beautiful.

 _If Ladybug hadn’t come along, I’d be tongue-tied for you._ He thought to himself but then wiped the slate clean. _Or maybe I am. But I’d rather test the waters first then dive into the deep end. Cats make for very poor swimmers._

“I hope you don’t get bored of all the pictures we’ll be taking in the future. Mainly of moments like this.” 

With one last pat on the elbow, Marinette left Adrien to rejoin Alya and Nino in their quest to decide which camera was best to take the photograph; Nino’s digital, or Alya’s polaroid, and Adrien was _completely_ sure the debate was pointless, because honestly they didn’t need to argue to such a degree and they would probably be chased out soon for waking up the entire neighbourhood, and…

…Well, he wouldn’t have had it any other way, really.

 

* * *

 

**( …**

_aLl ThEy’Ll dO iS bReAk YoUr HeArT jUsT LiKe ShE dId_

_JuSt LiKe He’S dOiNg_

**… )**

 

* * *

 

“Can’t believe a place like this was open this time of night…”

“Are you complaining?” Alya took another sip of her mocha (as usual, with a shot of caramel). “They do a mean blend, though. I always love this place.”

Clustered on the outside of _The Daily Blend,_ the four of them sat overlooking the cobblestone streets. Adrien couldn’t help but chuckle at Nino’s utter disbelief that coffee shops would be open so early in the morning.

“Still sounds kind of sickly sweet, but at least you’re not like Puss in Boots over there.” Adrien froze, cream around his lips, as Nino pointed at him. “Seriously, dude, _how_ can you like that much cream and sugar? You’re like a cat!”

Face hot, he wiped his mouth with his sleeve and pouted. “…You just hurt my felines _,_ Nino. How could you?”

“OH **GOD**.” 

Adrien’s ended up laughing so hard at Nino slamming his head against the wall, he failed to notice the way Marinette was gaping at him behind her own mug of hot chocolate.

 

* * *

 

**( …**

**… I don’t care anymore.**

**… )**

 

* * *

 

“Is that… music?”

“Oh, yeah.” Marinette giggled, already half-way up the steps. “There’s a local few street performers up ahead that play in front of all the restaurants.” She flexed a hand and pointed.

In the distance, behind the ornate structures of the buildings, the music suddenly had faces to represent them. Ordinary people, dressed for the weather in ordinary outfits, played songs that turned the air gold and made the stars hum from their out-of-reach canopy.

“My Papa took me and my Mama out here once, for my birthday.” She explained. “They’re really nice!”

_I wonder what that’s like?_

“Whoa. I don’t dance, but I _want_ to.”

Marinette giggled at Alya’s hesitance. “What’s wrong with dancing?”

Her tawny skin began to flush, if only very subtly. “C’mon, girl, you know I have two left feet.”

“ _Well_ then,” Nino slid in between the two on the small patches of ice, before holding out a hand. “Perhaps you’d like a teacher?”

Alya’s brow rose, as she took his hand. “Don’t get any ideas, Spielberg. You know you’re not my type.”

“Didn’t plan on it, Murdoch.”

Watching the two partake in some rather… _hilarious_ montages (Alya stepping on toes, Alya stepping on toes, and _Alya stepping on toes_ ), Adrien glanced over at Marinette. She was cheering her friend on, as usual, though her voice had hints of amusement buried deep beneath the affection. 

Adrien smiled, before walking out in front of her, and offering a hand.

“A-Adrien?” She flushed. 

He bowed slightly and extended his hand out further. “May _I_ have this dance, Princess?”

Chat Noir’s lingo tasted odd on his lips, but they left Marinette a squawking mess, blushing and _adorably_ shy. Still, without much thought, she took his hand, and the two began to move to the music in their own little mess of oddities.

It must have been quite the spectacle to onlookers. Four teenagers, alone and unsupervised, dancing to a melody that could barely reach their ears. Outfits made from jumbled clothes and pyjamas, cheeks flushed from the cold and laughter and going about their fun without a care in the world.

(All _without_ the influence of alcohol). 

He lifted Marinette up and twirled her, and decided:

He didn’t care about the opinions of others, so long as they were all smiling.

 

* * *

 

**(…**

**At least for tonight.**

**I won’t listen to you.**

**…)**

 

* * *

 

Eventually, however, the night had to draw to a close. Or the morning had to flood in more light, and there was more chance of the four of them getting caught out. Either way, it had to end eventually.

Alya had been the first to take off, and Adrien had felt a heart skip a beat for every time she had made him promise to call her later to let her know how she was. She had repeated the same for Nino and Marinette, but the hesitation was meant for him. She worried like that.

Nino had not been far behind her, wanting to make sure she got back on the bus alright. Adrien knew he would have stayed out longer if he had asked, but Nino’s mother would have been returning from work in the next few hours, and Adrien knew he wasn’t the only one who hated returning home to an empty house.

So, that left him. He and Marinette stood under the Eiffel Tower, watching the sky change.

“Do you, uh…” He felt his smile begin to slip. “Do you need to go home, too? I-I can walk part of the way with you.”

Marinette shook her head. “…Actually, I don’t. My parents think I’m at Alya’s right now.”

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, he froze. “…Weren’t you?”

She shook her head again. “I was out, actually. I told Alya I’d meet her.”

“Out?”

Marinette smiled and took a few steps out. “I’ve seen Paris at night before. In ways… I don’t think are completely unknown to you. _You_ in particular.”

_Why isn’t she stammering anymore?_

“Me?”

Marinette sighed, turned on her heel, and faced him. “I thought it was a crazy idea at first. That you could possibly be the one. Alya had insisted on it before, but I thought it was impossible.” Her grin began to grow. “But you’ve got a knack for proving the impossible, don’t you?”

His brows furrowed in confusion. “What are you talking about…?”

Marinette took her gloves off, and Adrien flinched when she placed them on his cheeks. When he glanced at her again, he was surprised at the _sorrow_ in her face.

“I’m sorry I let you suffer alone, Chat.”

His mind backpedalled.

Slack-jawed, all he could do was stare. Small beads of sweat poured down his neck.

_Chat._

… _Ladybug._

“A-Are you…?” He wasn’t surprised at how hoarse his voice was.

Marinette nodded. His knees buckled until they no longer worked, and his world consisted of only the warmth of two identities merging into one. A fledgling friendship merged with chaotic affection, and it all seemed too good to be real. 

It couldn’t be real. It wasn’t.

…

And yet, despite everything, it was. It was, and she was keeping him in the new reality that it was true and real with her warm hands and soothing hushes.

“I’m here.” She whispered. “I’m sorry I let you suffer like this, kitty. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me what was wrong.”

He barely choked out a reply. “N-Not… you’re fault.”

She grabbed the back of his coat and pulled him in closer to her, and the sheer ferocity of her desperate attempts to soothe him only making the tears stab at his eyes more. 

“You’re not the only one who gets bad dreams, Adrien, so please don’t think you’re alone anymore.” Marinette… Ladybug… rubbed his back. 

Adrien clutched onto her words like they were his lifesaver, and began to spill everything in a messy pile of tears.

About the dreams of his mother, the constant mental resets to try and make sense of it all. About his father, or lack thereof, and how he preferred the burnt pictures to his lack of care. About the unhinged liberty, he felt as Chat Noir. About the nightmare, he’d had that night. About everything and _anything,_ and how she was one of the few he couldn’t bear to lose anymore.

“Adrien. I want you to remember something for me.”

He tensed as she placed a soft, _soft_ hand to his cheek, and pressed her forehead to his.

“Even though you’ve felt so lost… I’m so proud of you for carrying on trying. Please, don’t ever give up.”

“I… won’t.” He flushed as she wiped under his eyes with her thumb. “Um… can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“How… did you know I was Chat?”

A familiar pink blush settled on her cheeks, and she moved to take his hand in hers. “…The puns.”

He snorted. “ _Really?”_

“Only you would take that chance. Well, and the amount of cream you had, but mostly it was that ridiculous pun in the coffee shop earlier.”

Adrien laughed, yet made no attempt to move from her embrace. 

He simply settled his head on her shoulder and glanced up at the sky.

“…What do we do now?” He whispered to her.

“I don’t know.” She replied, before moving to rest against him a little more. He didn’t miss her smiling as the snow began to fall, and the sprinkles settled against her lashes in a way that made his heart soar. “I suppose we just enjoy the moment.”

“That… sounds good to me.”

 

* * *

 

**(…**

V e r y  w e l l .

**…)**

 

* * *

 

“Good night, Adrien.”

“…You know what, Plagg? I think it will be.”

 


End file.
